Speaker 1: Welcome to grief. Let's make sense of this shit. I'm Dylan.
Speaker 1: It can feel odd to sit with sadness while the
Speaker 1: person you care about is still here. Many listeners reach
Speaker 1: out because they notice this mix of dread and love
Speaker 1: long before any final goodbye arrives. Because the loss has
Speaker 1: not happened yet, the feelings still count as real grief.
Speaker 1: You might be the one helping a family member through
Speaker 1: a terminal diagnosis, or perhaps you face another kind of
Speaker 1: expected change that already pulls at your daily life. Either way,
Speaker 1: the waiting period brings its own weight. Meanwhile, the world
Speaker 1: around you may act as though nothing has changed. That
Speaker 1: gap between what you sense inside and what others see
Speaker 1: can leave you unshure or where to turn. Since these
Speaker 1: emotions arrive early, they often arrive without any map. You
Speaker 1: wonder how to stay present for someone who needs you
Speaker 1: while your own heart keeps practicing the shape of absence. However,
Speaker 1: that practice does not make you strange or ahead of yourself.
Speaker 1: It simply shows that love already knows what is coming.
Speaker 1: In fact, many people describe quiet mornings when the future
Speaker 1: loss feels closer than the breakfast. In practical terms, others
Speaker 1: notice it at night when the house grows still. Because
Speaker 1: these moments do not wait for official news, they deserve
Speaker 1: a place in how we talk about grief today we
Speaker 1: note experience under its usual name anticipatory grief. This experience
Speaker 1: goes by the name of anticipatory grief. It describes mourning
Speaker 1: that begins before any loss has taken place. Fulton and
Speaker 1: Fulton explore this idea in their nineteen seventy one paper.
Speaker 1: They pointed out how the process can start as soon
Speaker 1: as someone learns a serious outcome is likely. Because the
Speaker 1: loss remains in the future, the feelings often arrive without warning.
Speaker 1: People may notice sadness or worries showing up during ordinary moments.
Speaker 1: At the same time, they might begin handling practical matters
Speaker 1: like future arrangements or daily schedules. Although the actual event
Speaker 1: has not occurred, these responses feel very real. Many listeners
Speaker 1: describe quiet mornings when thoughts of what lies ahead crowd
Speaker 1: out the present. However, the emotions do not wait for
Speaker 1: the loss itself to arrive. Instead, they surface early and
Speaker 1: they stay. In fact, anticipatory grief can include both the
Speaker 1: heart side and the planning side at once. Someone might
Speaker 1: feel waves of sorrow while also sorting through paperwork or
Speaker 1: talking with family about next steps. While this mix can
Speaker 1: seem confusing, it makes sense given the circumstances. The body
Speaker 1: and mind begin adjusting because they sense change coming. Researchers
Speaker 1: Fulton and Fulton noted that this preparation happens on more
Speaker 1: than one level. Emotional parts involve missing the person already
Speaker 1: or fearing the empty space they will leave. Practical parts
Speaker 1: involve decisions about care or finances, or even simple routines
Speaker 1: that may shift. Because both layers operate together, the experience
Speaker 1: can feel heavy, even on days when nothing new has happened.
Speaker 1: Many people wonder whether they are overreacting, since the loss
Speaker 1: still sits ahead. Yet the response is common when a
Speaker 1: terminal diagnosis enters this point. Meanwhile, the feelings do not
Speaker 1: follow a straight line. Some days, the emotional weight stands
Speaker 1: out more, other days the practical tasks take over. In
Speaker 1: other words, the process blends both sides without clear separation.
Speaker 1: This overlap can leave someone drained by evening, even if
Speaker 1: the day looked calm on the surface. Although the situation
Speaker 1: feels unique to each household, the core pattern shows up
Speaker 1: again and again. People carry the knowledge of what is
Speaker 1: coming and that knowledge shapes how they move through ordinary hours.
Speaker 1: The reality is that anticipatory grief gives no timeline of
Speaker 1: its own. It simply exists alongside daily life. Therefore, small
Speaker 1: moments of dread or sudden urges to prepare can appear
Speaker 1: without invitation. While these moments do not erase hope, they
Speaker 1: do ask for room. Many find that naming the experience
Speaker 1: helps because it removes the sense that something is wrong
Speaker 1: with them for feeling this early. Now Here is a
Speaker 1: story that shows how this can look in real life.
Speaker 1: I recall a period when my aunt faced a long
Speaker 1: illness that doctors said would not end well. Each morning,
Speaker 1: she and my uncle sat at the kitchen table with
Speaker 1: coffee that grew cold while they discussed which bills needed attention. First.
Speaker 1: She would pause mid sentence and stare out the window
Speaker 1: because the thought of leaving him alone pressed in without warning.
Speaker 1: He in turn, made lists of phone numbers for neighbors
Speaker 1: who could help. Later, they both noticed the quiet between
Speaker 1: them growing longer, yet neither wanted to name it out loud.
Speaker 1: Some afternoons, the practical side took over, and they sorted
Speaker 1: old photos or updated will. Other afternoons, the emotional side
Speaker 1: arrived first, and they simply held hands without speaking. Because
Speaker 1: they knew the end was approaching, every ordinary task carried
Speaker 1: extra weight. They did not rush through the days or
Speaker 1: pretend the sadness was absent. Instead, they let both the
Speaker 1: planning and the sorrow share the same space. Over time,
Speaker 1: they discovered that talking about the small details sometimes eased
Speaker 1: the larger ache for a while. A walk around the
Speaker 1: block after lunch could quiet the mind enough to finish
Speaker 1: one more phone call. A shared memory spoken aloud could
Speaker 1: make the next hour feel less empty. The two sides
Speaker 1: of preparation stayed present, but they did not always demand
Speaker 1: equal attention at once. Eventually, the pattern became familiar enough
Speaker 1: that they stopped questioning whether the feelings were allowed. They
Speaker 1: simply lived inside them as best they could each day.
Speaker 1: This approach did not remove the difficulty, yet it gave
Speaker 1: the experience a place to rest rather than fighting for space.
Speaker 1: I remember sitting in the hospital cafeteria one afternoon while
Speaker 1: my mother was upstairs resting after another round of tests.
Speaker 1: The diagnosis had come three months earlier, and everyone kept
Speaker 1: saying we still had time. Yet the sadness hit me
Speaker 1: right there, over a cup of coffee That had gone cold.
Speaker 1: It mixed with anger because the doctors spoke in careful
Speaker 1: tones that never quite matched what was happening at home.
Speaker 1: Then gilt followed because I caught myself wishing for it
Speaker 1: to be over sooner, just so the waiting would stop.
Speaker 1: Those feelings did not wait for the actual death. They
Speaker 1: showed up while she was still making grocery lists and
Speaker 1: asking about my work. I would help her with the
Speaker 1: laundry and feel a wave of sadness because I knew
Speaker 1: the pile of clothes would keep shrinking. At the same time,
Speaker 1: anger rose when visitors asked how she was doing, as
Speaker 1: if the answer could change anything. The guilt came later
Speaker 1: in the quiet hours, because part of me wanted to
Speaker 1: escape the house for a few hours and just breathe
Speaker 1: without checking the clock. Because the loss had not happened yet,
Speaker 1: the emotions felt out of place. Friends tried to focus
Speaker 1: on practical tasks like meals or rides to appointments. However,
Speaker 1: the real weight sat in those ordinary moments when she
Speaker 1: would ask me to read the newspaper aloud, and I
Speaker 1: wondered how many more times we would do that. The
Speaker 1: anger sometimes turned toward the illness itself. For taking pieces
Speaker 1: of her slowly. Guilt followed because I knew she could
Speaker 1: sense when my voice tightened. Meanwhile, the days kept their
Speaker 1: regular rhythm, with doctor visits and small conversations about the garden.
Speaker 1: Yet the mix stayed present. Sadness for what we would miss,
Speaker 1: anger at the unfair timing, guilt for the relief that
Speaker 1: sometimes sneaked in when she slept through the night without pain.
Speaker 1: These did not arrive one after another in any order.
Speaker 1: They overlapped on the same afternoon while we watched a
Speaker 1: show she liked. The reality is that anticipatory grief often
Speaker 1: works this way. It begins while the person is still here,
Speaker 1: and the routines continue. I noticed it most during the
Speaker 1: drive home from her place, when the car stayed quiet
Speaker 1: and I replayed conversations that already felt like they belonged
Speaker 1: to the past. The guilt grew because I wondered if
Speaker 1: my presence helped or just reminded her of what was coming.
Speaker 1: Anger surfaced again when family members offered opinions about treatments
Speaker 1: without seeing the daily effort it took. Since then, I
Speaker 1: have heard similar accounts from others who cared for a
Speaker 1: parent in the same situation. The Sadness arrives early because
Speaker 1: the future loss casts a shadow over the present. Anger
Speaker 1: shows up because the body still fights while the mind
Speaker 1: starts to prepare. Guilt lingers because those preparations can feel
Speaker 1: like a kind of disloyalty. The pattern repeats across different
Speaker 1: families because the waiting period carries its own demands. In
Speaker 1: other words, the experience sits between two worlds, one where
Speaker 1: the parent is still making plans and another where the
Speaker 1: plans have already shifted. That tension creates space for all
Speaker 1: three emotions at once. I found that naming them helped
Speaker 1: a little, because it removed the surprise when they returned
Speaker 1: the next day. The sadness for the small things like
Speaker 1: the way she folded towels, the anger at the slow
Speaker 1: pace of decline, the guilt for wanting a break from
Speaker 1: the watching. However, the story does not end with those
Speaker 1: months of waiting. It connects to how grief continues after
Speaker 1: the death in ways that feel familiar. The same mix
Speaker 1: can return on ordinary days when a song plays or
Speaker 1: a recipe comes to mind. Because the anticipatory phase already
Speaker 1: taught the heart to hold contradictions, the later grief does
Speaker 1: not feel entirely new. Instead, it builds on what started earlier.
Speaker 1: That said, many people described the months before as the
Speaker 1: hardest part, precisely because support arrives more readily after the loss.
Speaker 1: During the waiting, the sadness, anger, and guilt often stayed private.
Speaker 1: They surface in brief exchanges with siblings or late night
Speaker 1: thoughts that do not fit the daytime tasks. The broader
Speaker 1: pattern shows that grief begins its work whenever the possibility
Speaker 1: of loss becomes real. It does not pause for the
Speaker 1: actual event. We'll take a short break now and return
Speaker 1: with more on how these feelings settle into daily life.
Speaker 1: Many people find their thoughts drifting ahead even while the
Speaker 1: present moment continues as usual. Because the loss sits in
Speaker 1: the future, the worry often takes on a forward tilt.
Speaker 1: Someone might picture the empty chair at family gatherings or
Speaker 1: wonder how daily routines will shift once the person is gone.
Speaker 1: These thoughts arrive with a quiet persistence that can feel
Speaker 1: both protective and heavy at once. Wole rehearsal shows up
Speaker 1: in similar ways. A person might mentally walk through the
Speaker 1: steps of making decisions or handling new responsibilities. While this
Speaker 1: practice happens in the mind, It can bring a strange
Speaker 1: mix of clarity and exhaustion. The body stays in the
Speaker 1: current day, yet the imagination rehearses scenes that have not arrived.
Speaker 1: Since the event remains expected rather than completed, the emotions
Speaker 1: circle around preparation instead of final goodbye. Symptoms often mirror
Speaker 1: those found in grief after a death, Sadness surfaces without warning,
Speaker 1: sleep becomes uneven, Concentration slips during ordinary tasks. However, the
Speaker 1: center stays fixed on what is still to come. The
Speaker 1: overlap can leave people unsure whether their feelings count as
Speaker 1: grief at all. In fact, researchers at the National Cancer
Speaker 1: Institute describe this experience as mourning changes that lie ahead
Speaker 1: while the relationship continues in its present form. Terrace Rando
Speaker 1: explored these patterns in her nineteen eighty six book. She
Speaker 1: noted that the process allows space for both holding on
Speaker 1: and letting go at the same time. Because the loss
Speaker 1: has not occurred, the person can still reach out or
Speaker 1: share a moment, yet the mind already begins to adjust. Meanwhile,
Speaker 1: the days keep their ordinary shape, with meals and appointments
Speaker 1: and small conversations that carry extra weight. Future oriented worry
Speaker 1: tends to focus on practical matters first. Questions about finances
Speaker 1: or caregiving duties rise quickly. After that, the worry shifts
Speaker 1: toward emotional territory, such as how missing the person will
Speaker 1: feel during holidays or quiet evenings. Although these concerns feel
Speaker 1: distinct from regular grief, the underlying ache connects them. The
Speaker 1: expected event gives the feelings of particular direction that regular
Speaker 1: grief does not always hold. Listeners sometimes mention the strange
Speaker 1: comfort that comes from imagining the after they rehearse small
Speaker 1: rituals like visiting a grave or keeping certain objects close.
Speaker 1: These mental rehearsals can ease the suddenness when the time arrives,
Speaker 1: because the mind has visited the scene before. The actual
Speaker 1: moment carries less shock. Still, the rehearsal never removes the pain.
Speaker 1: It simply offers a small measure of familiarity within the unknown.
Speaker 1: The overlap with ordinary grief creates confusion for many. Fatigue
Speaker 1: arrives on schedule, yet stems from anticipating rather than remembering.
Speaker 1: Anger surfaces over lost future plans instead of past memories. Therefore,
Speaker 1: the experience earns its own name while sharing the same
Speaker 1: emotional language. People describe both versions as waves that rise
Speaker 1: and fall without warning or schedule. Since the loss remains ahead,
Speaker 1: the connection to the person stays active. Conversations continue, hands
Speaker 1: are held, stories are told, Yet each interaction carries an
Speaker 1: added layer of awareness. This dual state leaves room whom
Speaker 1: for gratitude alongside sorrow. One does not cancel the other.
Speaker 1: They sit side by side through the waiting period. Role
Speaker 1: rehearsal can also involve practicing new identities someone might try
Speaker 1: on the thought of becoming the decision maker or the
Speaker 1: one who explains the news to others. These inner trials
Speaker 1: help build a sense of readiness, even when readiness feels impossible.
Speaker 1: The mind tests the shape of life on the other side,
Speaker 1: while the body remains anchored in today. The National Cancer
Speaker 1: Institute points out that this form of grief often includes
Speaker 1: both the person facing the loss and those around them.
Speaker 1: Family Members rehearse their own parts in the story. Friends
Speaker 1: begin to picture changed holiday plans. Because everyone stands in
Speaker 1: different places, the expressions of worry take different forms. One
Speaker 1: person focuses on medical details, while another focuses on legacy
Speaker 1: and memory. Terrase Rando highlighted that these preparatory feelings do
Speaker 1: not shorten the grief that follows, they simply travel alongside it.
Speaker 1: The book describes how anticipation can create a bridge rather
Speaker 1: than a shortcut. People carry both the rehearsal and the
Speaker 1: eventual reality in the same heart. Neither replaces the other.
Speaker 1: Many listeners write in about the guilt that appears when
Speaker 1: joy sneaks through during the waiting. A laugh at a
Speaker 1: shared joke feels disloyal, even though the person is still present,
Speaker 1: because the future loss already colors the present. The guilt
Speaker 1: arrives early too, Yet the laugh itself remains real, and
Speaker 1: human permission to feel both sides of the moment grows
Speaker 1: slowly through repeated small allowances. Future oriented worry sometimes centers
Speaker 1: on the unknown timeline. Without a clear date, the mind
Speaker 1: fills the gap with imagined versions of how things might unfold.
Speaker 1: While some versions bring relief, others bring the variation keeps
Speaker 1: the emotional ground shifting beneath daily life. Meanwhile, ordinary tasks
Speaker 1: still demand attention, and the body keeps moving through them.
Speaker 1: Opening space now for your own accounts feels right. What
Speaker 1: parts of this experience match what you have noticed so far?
Speaker 1: Your stories help shape what comes next. In these conversations,
Speaker 1: I've received several notes from listeners who are walking through
Speaker 1: this exact tension while caring for a spouse. One woman
Speaker 1: wrote about her husband, who received an als diagnosis last year.
Speaker 1: She described how she wakes up each morning and plans
Speaker 1: the day around his mobility needs and breathing treatments. Yet
Speaker 1: at the same time, she finds herself rehearsing what the
Speaker 1: house will feel like once he is no longer there.
Speaker 1: She said, the two realities sit side by side on
Speaker 1: the kitchen table during breakfast, and neither one cancels the
Speaker 1: other out. Another listener shared that her wife has been
Speaker 1: living with advancing dementia for three years. She explained that
Speaker 1: she still packs a lunch for her every morning and
Speaker 1: drives her to the adult day program because that routine
Speaker 1: keeps both of them steady. At the same time, she
Speaker 1: catches herself wondering how she will spend those same hours
Speaker 1: once her wife no longer recognizes the car or the route.
Speaker 1: She mentioned that the forward thoughts arrive without warning, and
Speaker 1: then she has to return to the present moment to
Speaker 1: finish the drive safely. A third message came from someone
Speaker 1: whose husband was recently moved into hospice care at home
Speaker 1: after a series of strokes. He wrote that the medical
Speaker 1: equipment and the visiting nurses create one kind of day,
Speaker 1: while his mind keeps drifting to the arrangements he will
Speaker 1: need to make afterward. He noticed that he can be
Speaker 1: ordering supplies one minute and then picturing the quiet that
Speaker 1: will follow, and both experiences feel equally real to him
Speaker 1: right now. What stands out across these accounts is the
Speaker 1: sense of living in two emotional worlds at once. The
Speaker 1: present world asks for hands on care and steady attention
Speaker 1: to small details. The future world pulls attention toward an
Speaker 1: absence that has not arrived. Because the loss sits ahead
Speaker 1: of the actual moment, Many people describe a constant back
Speaker 1: and forth that leaves them tired by evening. The stories
Speaker 1: also show that this movement between worlds does not mean
Speaker 1: the person is doing anything wrong. It simply reflects how
Speaker 1: anticipatory grief works when someone remains physically present, yet the
Speaker 1: relationship is already changing in irreversible ways. These listeners often
Speaker 1: mention that ordinary conversations with friends or family do not
Speaker 1: always capture the double layer. People around them may focus
Speaker 1: on the medical updates or the practical tasks and miss
Speaker 1: the quiet internal rehearsal that continues underneath. Hearing that others
Speaker 1: recognize both layers seems to ease the isolation for a
Speaker 1: little while. Because these experiences keep coming up. I want
Speaker 1: to turn toward one small thing that several listeners have
Speaker 1: found useful, and the two worlds feel especially loud. In
Speaker 1: the next part of our conversation, we will look at
Speaker 1: a brief evening practice that lets both the present day
Speaker 1: and the forward thoughts have a place without letting either
Speaker 1: one take over the whole night. Since many of the
Speaker 1: messages mention living in two worlds at once, some people
Speaker 1: find it helpful to keep a simple daily journal. In
Speaker 1: this journal, they note both the grief moments and any
Speaker 1: small gratitude moments that appear. Because the days can blur together,
Speaker 1: this record becomes a quiet way to track what is
Speaker 1: actually happening. However, there is no need to force positivity
Speaker 1: into every entry. Instead, the practice allows space for whatever
Speaker 1: shows up. Meanwhile, the act of writing itself can create
Speaker 1: a small pause in the day. Although the journal stays
Speaker 1: private for most listeners, it sometimes reveals patterns over time.
Speaker 1: For example, one person caring for a spouse with dementia
Speaker 1: notice that certain hours brought stronger waves of sadness, while
Speaker 1: other moments held unexpected lightness around a shared memory. Since
Speaker 1: the loss remains ahead, these entries can feel especially confusing
Speaker 1: at first, yet writing them down often reduces the sense
Speaker 1: that everything must stay inside the mind. Therefore, the journal
Speaker 1: works as a steady companion rather than a task with rules.
Speaker 1: While some listeners write first thing in the morning, others
Speaker 1: prefer a few lines before bed. The choice depends on
Speaker 1: what fits the current rhythm of caregiving. Because terminal illness
Speaker 1: caregiving rarely follows a predictable schedule, the journal stays flexible
Speaker 1: by design. In fact, several people mentioned that even three
Speaker 1: short sentences felt enough on overwhelming days. Meanwhile, the gratitude
Speaker 1: side does not have to involve big events. A warm
Speaker 1: cup of tea or a brief phone call can count
Speaker 1: just as much as anything else. Another approach that comes
Speaker 1: up often involves stepping outside for five minutes. Although this
Speaker 1: sounds simple, the change in air and light can interrupt
Speaker 1: the loop of thoughts that circle ahead to what might
Speaker 1: happen next. Since anticipatory grief tends to pull attention forward,
Speaker 1: this short break brings the body back into the present moment. However,
Speaker 1: the practice works best without pressure to feel better right away. Instead,
Speaker 1: the five minutes simply mark a boundary between one part
Speaker 1: of the day and the next. Listeners who live with
Speaker 1: a partner in hospice care at home sometimes step onto
Speaker 1: a porch or into a small garden. Because the home
Speaker 1: environment stays filled with medical routines, the brief time outdoors
Speaker 1: offers a different view. Meanwhile, the same practice helps those
Speaker 1: supporting a family member through repeated hospital visits. Although weather
Speaker 1: or mobility can limit options, many adapt by standing near
Speaker 1: an open window when going outside proves difficult. Therefore, the
Speaker 1: core idea remains the same regardless of the exact location.
Speaker 1: Some people combine the outdoor moment with a single se
Speaker 1: sentence from their journal. They write the sentence first, then
Speaker 1: step outside to let it settle. Since the two practices
Speaker 1: stay short, they fit between caregiving duties without adding another
Speaker 1: full responsibility. However, the real value appears in the repetition
Speaker 1: rather than in any single day. Over time, these small
Speaker 1: pauses become familiar anchors during long stretches of waiting and uncertainty.
Speaker 1: A third suggestion that surfaces in the notes is talking
Speaker 1: with a counselor who understands terminal illness caregiving. Although friends
Speaker 1: and family often mean well, they may not grasp the
Speaker 1: particular tension of anticipatory grief because the loss has not
Speaker 1: occurred yet. The emotions can seem out of place to
Speaker 1: those who have not walked the same path. Therefore, a
Speaker 1: counselor familiar with this stage can offer steadier listening. Meanwhile,
Speaker 1: the conversations do not need to focus only on the
Speaker 1: future loss. They can address the daily mix of ordinary
Speaker 1: tasks and heavy feelings that arrive together. Listeners men that
Speaker 1: finding such a counselor sometimes takes several tries. Since not
Speaker 1: every therapist works regularly with families facing terminal diagnoses, the
Speaker 1: search itself can feel tiring. However, the effort often pays
Speaker 1: off once the right match appears. In fact, one person
Speaker 1: described the relief of finally speaking with someone who recognized
Speaker 1: role rehearsal without needing long explanations. Although these sessions stay private,
Speaker 1: the listener noted that even monthly meetings helped reduce the
Speaker 1: isolation that builds when conversations with friends stay surface level.
Speaker 1: While the journal, the outdoor minutes, and the counselor conversations
Speaker 1: each stand alone, they can also support one another. For example,
Speaker 1: a journal entry might highlight a moment that later becomes
Speaker 1: a topic during a counseling session. Meanwhile, the outdoor pause
Speaker 1: can serve as a reset after a difficult phone call
Speaker 1: or before writing. Because the practices remain small, they avoid
Speaker 1: adding to the already full schedule of caregiving. Instead, they
Speaker 1: offer gentle ways to mark time without requiring major changes.
Speaker 1: The reality is that anticipatory grief continues to arrive in
Speaker 1: waves even when these practices are in place. However, the
Speaker 1: consistency of small actions can make the waves feel slightly
Speaker 1: more familiar over time. Since each person carries a different
Speaker 1: set of responsibilities, the practices stay adaptable rather than fixed. Meanwhile,
Speaker 1: the goal stay simple. These moments create space to notice
Speaker 1: what is present right now, instead of staying pulled entirely
Speaker 1: into what lies ahead. Remember to treat yourself gently today.
Speaker 1: We will return after this short break. That short pause
Speaker 1: outside can also become a moment to speak gently to
Speaker 1: yourself without judgment. Because anticipatory grief pulls you into two
Speaker 1: worlds at once, it makes sense when relief shows up
Speaker 1: beside the sadness. In fact, many people notice a brief
Speaker 1: sense of lightness after a difficult phone call or a
Speaker 1: quiet stretch in the afternoon, and then feel guilty about
Speaker 1: it right away. However, that mix of feelings does not
Speaker 1: mean you care any less. Meanwhile, the days still move
Speaker 1: forward with appointments and conversations, so giving yourself permission to
Speaker 1: feel both emotions keeps the weight from growing heavier. Although
Speaker 1: you might expect to keep the same pace as before,
Speaker 1: the reality is that energy comes and goes without warning.
Speaker 1: Because of this, lowering what you ask of yourself each
Speaker 1: day helps protect the small reserves you have left. While
Speaker 1: a full list of tasks once felt necessary, now choosing
Speaker 1: one or two items can be enough. In other words,
Speaker 1: productivity looks different right now, and that shift does not
Speaker 1: signal failure. Since the journal practice already gives space to
Speaker 1: notice the patterns, you can add a single line about
Speaker 1: what felt kind to yourself that morning or evening. Although
Speaker 1: stepping outside remains useful, You can use those same five
Speaker 1: minutes to name one thing you are handling well, even
Speaker 1: if it is simply showing up. Because self compassion grows
Speaker 1: through small, repeated acts rather than big changes, the pressure
Speaker 1: eases when you stop measuring against an old standard. Meanwhile,
Speaker 1: friends may not understand why you canceled plans, and that
Speaker 1: is all right. Their view does not change the fact
Speaker 1: that rest supports you more than pushing through. Although the
Speaker 1: loss remains ahead, the kindness you extend today builds a
Speaker 1: steadier ground for whatever comes next. In fact, listeners often
Speaker 1: report that these gentler expectations open room for unexpected moments
Speaker 1: of connection with the person they are caring for. Because
Speaker 1: grief does not follow a straight line, patience with yourself
Speaker 1: becomes part of staying present. While the future stays uncertain,
Speaker 1: the choice to treat yourself with care stays within reach
Speaker 1: each day. A simple three minute evening note to yourself
Speaker 1: before bed can mark that patience without adding another obligation.
Speaker 1: Many people find themselves in this waiting space right now,
Speaker 1: and the truth is you are not alone there. Because
Speaker 1: the loss remains ahead, the emotions can feel out of
Speaker 1: step with daily life. Yet the journal practice and those
Speaker 1: short outdoor pauses give you ways to stay present without
Speaker 1: forcing anything. While you name one thing you are handling well.
Speaker 1: In those moments, the steadiness builds even when nothing else
Speaker 1: feels certain. If this podcast helps you make sense of
Speaker 1: your grief, join our Supporters Club and help us keep
Speaker 1: these conversations going. You will find the link in the
Speaker 1: episode description. Meanwhile, our next episode will look at how
Speaker 1: these feelings shift once the loss itself arrives, and I
Speaker 1: would welcome more of your stories about living with anticipatory
Speaker 1: grief so we can share them with others who need
Speaker 1: to hear they are understood. Although the days ahead stay unknown,
Speaker 1: the small acts of care you offer yourself create space
Speaker 1: to keep going. Take a slow breath with me now.
Speaker 1: Thank you for listening.